Today Is His Birthday
by FoxiiHikari
Summary: “Today… was his birthday.” he murmured. The blond man felt like he should know who it was. “I tried… to stop him from hurting himself…” Veneziano continued, voice soft, “But… he wouldn’t listen… and now he’s gone.” - T just for death references.


Hai haiii!!! Foxxie here, posting my first story! Hehehe, makes me so happy! Even though the story isn't one to be so thrilled about…

And thanks to Akasuna no Rin for pointing out that I switched between "red-head" and "brunette" for Italy! Fixed that ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, I'm not sure what I would change, it's an awesome series already XD

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Germany glanced across the meeting table at North Italy, who was sitting with a huge bowl of pasta as always. What wasn't normal was the fact that the country hadn't inhaled all of it by now. The carefree smile that curved his lips seemed a bit strained, like it was being forced up. He was even quieter than usual, much quieter. Even Romano noticed that there was something wrong with his brother, but didn't want to speak up.

Shortly, the meeting was over and Feliciano had only stirred the noodles around. He let out a cheery goodbye that sounded slightly hollow, but most of the nations groaned at his loud voice after such a long meeting. Ludwig watched him exit in a rather hasty manner, gathering his own papers and notes and putting them away in his brief case. He was going to figure out what was wrong with the usually hyper Italian.

Walking down the halls towards his hotel room, the blond man halted in front of the door where he knew the small man was staying. He shook his head and continued to his room, across the hall and two doors down. He would change out of his stiff suit before confronting the other. If anything, the pasta-obsessed would end up doing something ridiculous and Ludwig would need another suit.

Changed into cargoes and a t-shirt, the country sighed and walked out of his room, key sliding into his pocket. Finding his way back to Italy's door, he wondered why he was doing this before rapping his knuckles on the door. There was no answer after a few moments and Germany found himself growing impatient. "Feliciano, it's me, open up." he demanded. There was a slight noise from inside, but otherwise nothing happened. Now the blond was irritated as well as worried. He had no reason as to why the Italian would ever be so quiet, so shut off, and not actually be bothering the tall man until he was ready to throttle the brunette.

"Italy, open the god damn door." he snapped, ready to break it down. After a few seconds, there was a click and the door edged open slightly. "Lud…wig?" a voice whispered thickly. The usually gruff country suddenly felt all irritation drain from him at the broken tone, and he shouldered his way into the room, not liking what was going on. "Feliciano…" he stated, voice trailing off into almost a question.

The small country had obvious tear streaks on his face, dampness covering his cheeks and his eyes were bloodshot. Shoulders quivered with uneven, jerky breaths that were hardly visible in the dimly lit room. The curtains had been yanked shut, and the lights were all off save the bathroom one, but yellow beams only slid out from a small crack. There was something clutched in Italy's hands, a deep blue fabric of some sort. The country had it crushed against his chest while he shook, looking away from the blond. Even his strange curl seemed to be drooped.

"Italy…" Germany tried again, taking a slight step forwards. "Germany… p-please…" he whispered, not looking up while slinking back. "Veneziano… what is it?" the blond persisted, knowing that if this had been anyone else, he would've left as soon as he saw them in such a state, but he was locked in place when it came to the careless brunette.

"Nothing." Italy whispered, voice hollow. He turned away, hiding himself from the tall country as he sank into one of the arm chairs and curled up into a small ball, the fabric still pressed to his chest. Now Germany was beyond positive that something had seriously messed up the small man. Walking quickly around the chair, he felt his heart clench as he saw tears starting to slide down already wet cheeks. Without thinking, the usually stoic man pulled the Italian into his arms, holding him close and trying to get his tears to stop.

Italy started to sob weakly, broken cries of pain from an unknown cause. The blond tried not to flinch at the piercing sounds, wishing he knew exactly how to help the poor boy. "Feliciano…" he tried, rubbing said man's back and keeping him close. Eventually, the small frame stopped quaking from sobs and he sniffled weakly, leaning into Germany's embrace and closing his eyes. The taller blond ignored his own blush as he tried to help the country recover.

"L-Ludwig…" a tiny, creaking voice mumbled after a moment, bloodshot eyes peeking up through damp reddish brown hair. Said man instantly brushed away the bangs, arms looped around him to try to calm him. The smaller country fiddled with the object in his hand, eyes hazed with memories. Squinting slightly, the blond noticed that something darker than the blue was staining the fabric, something tinted ever so slightly crimson.

"Feliciano… where did you get that?" he asked, suddenly worried for the other. The smaller man jumped, as if he had forgotten about the other. "From a person… who was very important to me." he answered quietly, fingers still rubbing delicately against the old fabric. Now Germany could tell that it was a hat and not a scrap of cloth, though the hat was damaged other than the red stain. He also caught the past tense of the statement, and began to wonder what sort of a relationship it was, prickling with jealousy, though he beat the feeling down right away.

Italy's eyes unfocused and he fell into the past, flickering through the run-ins around Austria's large house. Then how he'd finally left, unable to convince him to stop before he got hurt, just like Grandpa Rome did. And then years later, he'd gotten the hat in a package, as well as a handwritten note from familiar handwriting. And he knew what had happened. And he couldn't believe that he hadn't given in to the fighting, but would he still have died? The Holy Roman Empire wouldn't have thought that way, and had charged into his last fight, unafraid. No matter what Italy had said to him about it, the blond boy had tried to expand his size, hurting himself until he broke. And now, he only had the hat and the past to hold on to. Or so he thought. Germany… it was as if he'd been cloned, save the eyes. Looked exactly the same to him, and it nearly hurt, but there was something he felt deep inside whenever he looked over at the tall man who still helped him, even though he didn't have to.

Peeking up once more, the Italian rested his head on Ludwig's shoulder, nuzzling into his neck to find comfort, bringing a blush to the other's cheeks. "Today… was his birthday." he murmured, wondering if he should tell the entire story. The blond man felt like he should know who it was, but he didn't know why. "I tried… to stop him from hurting himself…" Veneziano continued, voice soft, "But… he wouldn't listen… and now he's gone." Tears sprung back to the brunette's eyes before he managed to blink them back. Warm hands held him closer, not wanting him to cry again.

"I'm sure you did the best you could, Feliciano…" Ludwig stated quietly, trying to help the poor man. The small country nodded weakly, pressing his face closer to the other's shoulder. They sat for few moments in silence, Germany still holding Italy as he sat on the floor, cradling the country close.

"Ludwig?" the small man asked hesitantly. "_Ja_?_"_ said country replied, looking down into the other's eyes. "Thank you… for being here…" Italy murmured before pressing his face back into the other's warm neck. Germany flushed but nodded. "It's not a problem at all." he reassured, rubbing Italy's back gently still. The brunette nodded, cuddling up against Ludwig, hat in hand as he did so. A moment later, his breathing had slowed quite a bit, indicating that the small man had fallen asleep on the blond. Sighing, the other scooped him up and walked him over to the bed. Placing him on it and tucking the country in, Germany pressed a quick kiss to Veneziano's forehead before sliding back out the door as quietly as he could, blush staining his cheeks lightly.

_"Guten nacht."_

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Annnnd that's that! Kinda said, a bit of fluff throughout it, and I think it's decent. Problems with getting their characters down right.

R&R pleaseeee~!

~ Foxxie


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